Strawberry Delight
by OrangeShipper
Summary: AU/RST version of Strawberry Fields Forever. A little less UST and a little  a lot!  more RST. Mary and Matthew pick strawberries on a hot summer's day and get.. a little carried away!


A/N:_ I don't really know what to say about this fic..._

_Well, it started with Silvestria's suggestion to write something involving strawberries (which I did - Strawberry Fields Forever)._

_Apparently, that didn't contain enough snogging, and so came about the idea of an AU version with a little less UST and a little (as it turns out, a LOT) more RST._

_Erm... I had immense fun writing it, so I make no apologies, but I do apologise in advance! (Does that make sense? Oh well.)_

_Please bear in mind that it IS AU, it should not be taken seriously at all, and is really just a thinly veiled excuse for a lot of Matthew/Mary making out amongst strawberries._

_Ahem._

_Thanks as ever to Silverduck for polishing it up!_

_Without further ado, I'll let you get on and read it... At your peril! Consider yourselves warned!_

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><p><strong>Strawberry Delight<strong>

The sweltering summer sun beat down upon Matthew's back as he crouched amongst the low strawberry plants, picking the ripe fruits and collecting them in the basket that lay between him and Mary. The heat was muggy and stifling. His jacket and hat lay discarded a few feet away, his sleeves were shunted up to his elbows and his shirt collar loosened in a vain attempt to allow a little bit of air to reach his skin. To be sitting in a field picking strawberries with Mary seemed strangely surreal; he had been making his way home and had come across her quite unexpectedly, engrossed in her task, and had on a whim decided to offer his help. Well; it was on a whim, but he could not deny that he had leapt at the opportunity. His eyes flicked over to her, unconsciously lingering on the slight pout of her lips and the delicate tint to her cheeks as she laboured.

Unbeknownst to him, Mary had also been stealing glances at him whenever she thought he was not looking. Though she had been very much enjoying the peaceful solitude of her efforts, finding satisfaction in the labour, the unexpected appearance of Matthew had been a very pleasant surprise. She was finding it increasingly difficult to deny to herself the effect that he had upon her. The way she suddenly found it harder to breathe when he was near her. The way her pulse quickened when he looked at her. The way her heart glowed when he smiled at her, or laughed with her. Oh, how she wanted to despise him; but it was impossible. He infuriated her, that was without doubt; but she was beginning to wonder whether her infuriation was not more directed at her own self for finding him so… appealing.

The summer air hung heavily around them. The only sounds were the twittering of birds, the rustle and soft snap of stems as they worked the strawberries free, and their laboured breathing, gentle puffs and the occasional grunt (from Matthew; Mary would never make such an indelicate sound) as they toiled in the heat.

Eventually, Matthew could bear the constraint of his crouched position no longer, and stood up. He pressed his hands to the small of his back, stretching every muscle to encourage sweet oxygen to flow around his body. Tilting his head back, he took several deep breaths of the muggy air, finding them not at all satisfying, before scrubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to wipe off the prickling sweat to cool himself. Still seated, Mary watched him from the corner of her eye, noting with appreciation the way his waistcoat pulled tautly across his shoulder-blades as he stretched, the way the sunlight caught the fair hairs on his forearms… She dared not stare openly; it would be almost like admitting to herself that she wanted to. Which she didn't, naturally. It was Matthew!

He turned his head and addressed her, looking down at her with his hands resting lightly on his hips. Mary quickly averted her gaze to frown intently at the strawberry her hand was upon, hoping that he had not caught her glances.

"I don't know how you're managing, Mary. It's intolerably hot."

"It is, yes," she concurred. Hot indeed; she could feel a flush rising in her cheeks from the warmth she felt, as though her skin were burning. "I don't know, Cousin Matthew; perhaps I am simply more used to it than you – was Manchester so very gloomy that you did not often see the sun? I had not realised that Mrs Gaskell's portrayal was so accurate!"

Matthew, disgruntled by this, opened his mouth to reply when she raised her eyes to his with a dazzling, disarming smile at her own wit. But his retort vanished from his lips as her smile dropped, her face slackening into a wide-eyed stare. He frowned as she slowly stood up, her eyes not leaving his face.

He was entirely oblivious to the fact that, as he had wiped his face in earnest, he had inadvertently smeared his cheek with earth that had collected on his palms along with the strawberries. He looked utterly endearing, watching her with open-mouthed confusion and a gentle frown as she took a step towards him. She blinked, trying to ignore how her heart fluttered at the sight of him, distracting herself from those thoughts with a light, nervous laugh.

"Dear me, Matthew. You've… You've dirt all over your face, it's quite a disgrace! It's a good job we are quite alone, for you are not fit for company!" Her eyes widened slightly as her words reminded her of just how alone they were, and her heart pounded faster. Desperately trying to assuage the wandering of her mind, she did the very first thing which came into her head – which was to stretch her hand out and wipe the dirt from his face. She gasped, realising only as her thumb brushed over his cheek that she was not even wearing gloves!

Matthew froze as her cool hand caressed the hot skin of his face. He closed his eyes and swallowed, berating himself for such a thought. It was _not_ a caress, it was barely even a ministration. His eyes snapped open as her hand dropped, her fingers trailing for a second longer on his skin, burning where she had touched it. Their eyes met; a flash passed between them, neither daring to consider what it meant, and Mary suddenly stepped backwards as if he had branded her with an iron. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that the basket of strawberries lay in her path and her foot caught in the handle of it, causing her to lose her balance with a soft cry of consternation.

Without thought, Matthew leaned forwards and grasped her upper arms to steady her. He pulled her upright a little too enthusiastically in his earnestness and she almost toppled against him, hands bracing on his chest, eliciting gasps of surprise from both of them. For a moment Mary stared in bewilderment at her hands splayed on his chest, her heartbeat racing as she felt his race too underneath her palm, eventually dragging her eyes up to meet his.

Matthew felt equally uncomfortable at the sudden, unexpected proximity, and had to take a few breaths to steady himself; unaware that the rise and fall of his chest created by this was only increasing Mary's distraction. Desperate to allay the thick atmosphere between them, he clutched at the first words that came to him.

"It might seem, Cousin Mary, that you are not so unaffected by the heat as I suspected!" he stammered breathlessly.

"It – it might indeed, Matthew," she gasped out, considering that she was quite happy to let him believe that it was the heat alone which affected her, weak though it made her seem. His gaze held her captive; she could not seem to look away. Thankfully, she then remembered what had actually caused her to trip. "Matthew, the strawberries!" she exclaimed.

"Of course," he mumbled, hands dropping from her arms, and hers from his chest, as though they'd been burned. They swiftly stooped, gathering up all the fallen fruits into the basket before they were trodden on.

Feeling suddenly overcome with heat and exhaustion, Mary sat down a little heavier than she normally might, wiping her hands on her dress, gazing absently at the now full basket. Anything was better than looking at, and thinking about, him – it scared her how little in control of herself she felt. For his part, Matthew had followed her example and also sat in respite, though a little less elegantly, leaning back on his hands with his legs comfortably in front of him. They did not speak for a while, each fervently trying to justify and rationalise their actions to themselves, trying to ignore and deny how affected they were by the other.

However, it was not long before Mary found her gaze drifting towards him once more. Her brows rose in almost equal measure of horror and fascination at what he was doing. Calmly, quite happily, he was eating a strawberry. She stared, entranced, as he twirled it deftly between his fingers before his soft lips closed around it, wrinkling gently as he bit into it. Mary's pulse quickened, all thoughts of denial chased out of her mind as she watched him finish off the ripe fruit, licking his lips to catch every last sweet remnant of it. To her consternation he immediately picked up another, gently twisting off the top of the stem, no doubt to tantalise her further with it. Well, it would not do! She simply couldn't allow herself to be so distracted by him like this!

As he raised the bright red strawberry to his lips, his eyes snapped up from it as his anticipated pleasure was denied by Mary's firm grasp on his wrist. She had been forced to push herself to a kneeling position and lean forwards slightly to reach him, her slender fingers staying his hand.

"Cousin Matthew!"

He stared at her, lips slightly parted in bemusement, as she narrowed her eyes at him with a teasing glare.

"Yes?" His tone of voice was light; not knowing what sort of game she was evidently playing now, he decided he might as well go along with it. He raised an eyebrow, challenging her to continue.

"You do know that these strawberries belong to my father's land… You have not been invited to eat them! Some might consider it to be rude to presume." She raised her eyebrows smugly with a small smile of satisfaction, confident that she had reclaimed the upper hand. This was more like it!

Her smile faded slightly as he responded with an equally challenging tone, his eyes narrowing back at her, meeting her measure for measure.

"Well, do pardon me, Cousin Mary." He would not have spoken with a tone so distinctly unapologetic had he believed for a moment that she was serious, and not simply toying with him. "Might I ask what precisely you're going to do about it?" He held his wrist unrelentingly against the pull of her hand.

Mary's eyes widened at his insolence. This was not how it was supposed to play out; she had not anticipated him to stand up to her! She frowned in sudden resolve. As he continued to taunt her with his smugly raised eyebrow and his infuriatingly over-confident smirk, she realised that she had underestimated him. Oh, she would set him straight and wipe that stupid grin off his face. She gave him one last chance.

"I suppose decorum dictates that I must be polite and ask, first, whether you will relinquish the fruit?" She gazed levelly at him, her heart pounding in her ears, knowing that she absolutely should be hoping that he would just give in. "A gentleman would do so!" She flung this last challenging aside at him as an afterthought, knowing he would rise to it.

Her comment simply stung Matthew into a greater determination to not let her win whatever it was she was playing at. Heat rose in him, and he desperately tried to battle it down, the muscles in his face twitching as he gritted his teeth. With a concerted effort he simply forced his lips to quirk further upwards, his eyes glinting.

"I thought, Cousin Mary, that you did not believe me to be one! I'm sure you would hate to be proved wrong. So tell me, what am I to do?"

This was too much for Mary. She was so incensed that she couldn't even think of a suitably scathing retort. Matthew's eyebrows rose sharply in shock at the low growl that suddenly sounded in her throat. It happened in a flash; her eyes narrowed dangerously and, before Matthew had a chance to realise what was happening, her lips had closed around the strawberry still held between his fingers. He gasped as she overshot it (purposefully, he was sure) and bit down hard on his knuckles. A pang of heat and desire jolted right the way through him down to his toes. Unable to breathe, he shuddered as he felt the moist warmth of her mouth around him. He gasped for breath, feeling desperately lightheaded, staring fixatedly at her lips as they trailed up his fingers, her tongue curling around the strawberry and sliding hotly against his skin as it did so.

Mary felt a thrilling surge of power as she heard him gasp, feeling his body stiffen all the way through his fingertips. She closed her eyes, concentrating everything on the sensation of his skin against her lips and tongue, finding it surprisingly (but not unpleasantly) rough. She deliberately took her time over teasing the strawberry from his fingers with her teeth, little trembles shivering through her as her lips slid over his skin, eventually completing her task and raising her head. She felt almost bereft as his fingers finally slipped out of her mouth, trailing down her chin as he could not summon any control for a moment.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, blood rushing through their veins Everything else seemed to be faded and dulled on the periphery of their vision. Mary desperately concentrated on eating the strawberry in her mouth, eventually managing to swallow it. Matthew stared, his breath coming in shallow pants as her tongue passed delicately over her lips.

His eyes roved over her, observing her clear agitation, and how she looked ever so slightly dishevelled and flustered. A thrill ran through him at the thought that it was he that had this effect upon her. He had been taken aback by her sudden, unexpected forwardness; in fact he was quite indignant about it. She had shifted the bar, and there was no backing down now. His eyes glanced down, and he noticed that her hand was still gripping his wrist firmly. In a surge of retaliatory resolve, with a quick, sharp movement, he yanked his arm back, causing Mary to fall against him with little resistance aside from a soft exclamation of surprise.

Instantly, fervently, his lips found hers. She had released his wrist as she fell and her hands had swiftly moved to clutch his shoulders, steadying herself as she closed her eyes and leaned into him. Matthew's hands slipped around the back of her neck, pulling her ever closer, kissing her again and again, desperately releasing all the passion that had been slowly building in him all afternoon. He felt, rather than heard, Mary's soft whimper into his mouth, sending a delicious shudder sweeping through him.

Mary felt almost as though she were underwater, her head swimming in heady delight, all rational thought slowly dissipating as she yielded to his kiss. She was just about beginning to regain control of herself, returning his kiss more firmly and more intently, when all at once he shifted. Without warning, she found herself pushed down onto her back, thudding into the springy grass as Matthew leaned over her. Somehow, she wasn't entirely sure how, his broad hand had captured her wrists and was pinning them over her head. With a gasp of horrified indignation, she briefly struggled, but was swiftly subdued by the warm, pressing weight of his body half on top of her, distracted by the fact that he was kissing her again, pressing her back and down onto the ground.

Once more, without warning, he stopped, raising his head but looking down at her with swollen lips and hooded eyes. She sighed, arching her back to try and wriggle closer again, every single fibre of her body aching for him with an intensity she had never experienced before. Matthew felt it, and shivered, more so as he felt her pulse race through the delicate skin of her wrists. He leaned over her on the elbow of his free arm, simply watching her for a moment, revelling in the thrill of her submission.

"I take it, then, that _you_ are permitted to eat the strawberries without permission?" he murmured deeply.

"Well, y-yes!" she gasped breathlessly beneath him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Why on earth was he talking about strawberries again, after kissing her so passionately, and after trapping her so blissfully in this entirely improper position? Her brow furrowed softly.

"Oh, I see."

Mary wasn't quite sure how a voice could be a caress, but that was certainly what his felt like.

Without quite looking at her, Matthew reached down somewhere beside them. Mary's eyes followed his movement, her eyebrows rising sharply as he produced a half squashed strawberry. She blushed fiercely, supposing that she must have landed on it. What a state her dress would be in! Her thoughts were quickly distracted again as she realised that he was hovering the fruit in question an inch or two above her lips.

He gazed heatedly down at her. "In that case, I think you'd better have this one – we can't possibly take it back for Mrs Patmore now, but it would be a terrible shame for it to go to waste, don't you think?"

She nodded mutely, all thought now beyond her, tingling with anticipation at the dark look in his eyes and the way his soft voice teased her. She strained her head up towards it.

Matthew drew it back the slightest fraction, keeping it tantalisingly out of reach. "Oh, no –" he whispered, his head so close above the damnably enticing strawberry. "My way, this time."

Mary gazed up at him, a soft, trembling sigh escaping her lips as she acquiesced. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to force her body to relax a little but it was no use. She felt deliciously on edge. Her eyes fluttered open, her eyes never leaving his as he brought it a little lower. She gasped in tiny, panting breaths, barely able to breathe at all.

Excruciatingly slowly, Matthew lowered the strawberry, juice seeping out of it where it was bruised, towards her mouth. He couldn't tear his eyes from her perfect face, flushed and willing. He was about to let her have it, her teeth scraping and nipping the bottom edge of it, when he had a much better idea. Mary gasped as he pulled it back again, straining up against him once more but unable to due to her pinned wrists – it was the most exquisite torture.

Mary felt as though she might pass out then, when he trailed the tip of the strawberry over her lips, leaving a shining, wet trail of juice over them. She felt intoxicated, heady with delight, tremors shivering through her over and over as he taunted her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she relaxed, relishing the sweet sensation. Beginning to believe that she couldn't possibly feel any greater pleasure than this, she was taken by surprise yet again as Matthew suddenly caught her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it gently and making sure that every last drop of juice was licked off. This was too much, and a low, visceral moan escaped her throat. Matthew groaned in response, kissing her firmly but too briefly before raising his head again, dragging his lips away with the most tremendous effort. His entire body was on fire; so was Mary's; he could tell as she arched against him, sending shoots of electricity right through him.

Her eyes snapped open and she met his, clouded with desire. His breaths were ragged and gasping. She looked pleadingly at him, begging him with her eyes, lips trembling into a smile as he nodded. He finally lowered the strawberry to her lips, groaning softly as her tongue touched it first, before her teeth and finally her lips closed around it.

Matthew couldn't quite tell whether or not he regretted taking so long over teasing her with it. But as he lowered his head to kiss her again, tasting the remnants of the sweet fruit in her mouth, he suddenly found that he couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking. All that was in his mind was her, her lips, her soft sighs into his mouth and her trembling body beneath him. He released her wrists now in favour of slipping one hand under her head, while his other rested lightly on her hip, tentatively at first, his grip tightening unconsciously as he deepened the kiss.

Her arms draped leisurely around his neck as she returned his passion enthusiastically. As he kissed her, exploring and tasting her, she writhed under him, unable to contain her heady delight. Tiny whimpers and murmurs escaped her throat, and her hands started to roam over him, sliding down his arms, around his waist, up his back, before she clutched at the back of his neck and his hair. He was so warm, so alive, and she could feel the hard beat of his heart through his shirt, feel his pulse racing under her hands.

Matthew felt entirely lost in the blissful surreality of their situation. His earlier discomfort at the stifling heat was now entirely replaced by the enthralling comfort of _her_ heat, warmth spreading all through him. He dragged his lips from hers, trailing them heatedly across her cheek and onto her neck, lightly nipping at her hot, salty skin with his teeth. Mary gasped, twisting her fingers into his hair, damp with sweat, clutching him to her. When he met the resistance of her dress collar with a frustrated groan he worked his way up again 'til his tongue was tracing her earlobe, sending tremors shooting from her head to her toes. She could feel and hear his hot, heavy breaths right in her ear, the desperation and passion in them almost undoing her as she allowed him to taste her.

Unable to bear it any longer, she tugged at his hair, forcing his head and his lips back to hers, finding them in a fierce clash of desire, arching herself against him as closely as she possibly could. But it was not close enough; she wanted him closer, nearer, as if she could mould into him, heat pooling in her belly. The sudden shock and explosion of her feelings into this intoxicating realisation was too much. Matthew clasped her face between his hands, pressing down on her with soft groans of desire and delight. He couldn't grasp the reality of the wondrous fact that she was under him, kissing him back with equal measure of ferocity, shifting and buckling against him. He felt as though he were about to snap.

As if the world around them realised the thickness of the atmosphere and the electric tension between them, the air above them suddenly broke. The muggy, heavy air had finally reached its limit, and a deep roll of thunder tore across the sky.

The sound was enough to startle them into sitting up suddenly, dragging their lips apart with a gasp. Half sitting, half crouching, they stared at each other in wonder, the realisation of what they had been doing slowly sinking in. Matthew gazed at Mary's reddened lips and her wildly straying hair, damp strands clinging to her neck in the damp air. She stared back at him, eyes roving over him, taking in his darkly sparkling eyes, his parted lips, the way his chest and shoulders rose and fell as he heaved in steadying breaths. He seemed to be entirely different to her now, still the same Matthew, but the knowledge of what they had shared giving her a new appreciation of him, a new side to him that he had only shared with her. She swallowed thickly, the taste of him still on her tongue. She shivered.

A small smile crept over Matthew's face, a knowing, secretive smile. He felt a sudden calm, a relaxation, all his coiled tension released by her blissful reciprocation.

A second crack of thunder renting the air shocked them out of their reverie. Matthew blinked, shaking his head to clear it as he pushed himself to his feet. He reached a hand down to Mary, gently pulling her up. Without a conscious decision he kept hold of her hand. Blinking, he looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, before returning his gaze to her.

"I have a feeling the weather may be about to turn against us…" he said rather obviously, his voice coming out in a thick rasp. Mary nodded with a slight frown.

"I – I think you're right. We should –"

"Yes."

Neither felt quite able to speak of what had happened. Each wondered if maybe they should; but they didn't know what to say if they were to, in any case. What could they say? Already, it seemed so far removed, so distant, like a wonderful dream.

Gathering up his jacket and hat, Matthew retrieved the basket of strawberries and offered his elbow to Mary. She gladly took his proffered arm, smiling warmly up at him, before they began to hurry back in the direction of the big house, racing against the rain that would surely soon come.

It was in the past. It had happened; it was burnt into their memories as though it were branded there. Every touch, every taste, every sound, every feeling. They could not explain it, or justify it; they did not wish to, for that would mean to contemplate and analyse it, and that would not do at all. No; rather it be left as a cherished memory, a secret between them, that they would think of and smile at every time their eyes met, and that flash of understanding would pass between them. To the outside world, all would be as normal, their behaviour perfectly proper and modest, cool and polite. Friendly, perhaps. No, there would be no sign.

None but a bright red stain (or two, or three) on the back of Mary's dress.

**Fin**

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><p>AN:_ Well, there we are! :) I do hope you enjoyed it, I'd love to know what you thought so please leave a review if you like! It was rather a departure from my usual (was it really though...? Maybe just in its excess..), but now that it's out of my system, I promise I'll write something more serious next!_


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